


fireflies // Touya/Dabi x Hawks // Howl's moving Castle AU

by dancing_in_the_rain54



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anyways, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Hawks is Howl, Howls Moving Castle AU, I come from tumblr, I havent seen the movie in a while, Izuke is Micheal, M/M, Sorry im talking in the tags, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, Touya is Sophie, You can read this even if you haven't read the book or seen the movie, and deserves the world for putting up with touya and hawks, but he gets a bit better, but hes still angery, but i do like the movie so dont think i hate it plz, but it is based on the book, but its mostly touya, but touya doesnt forgive him, deku is a sweetheart, hawks is over dramatic, hotwings, i just like the book better, it is a touya/hawks, or whatever the little twerp from the movie's name is, techancally dabi too, touya is a bit of a pushover at first, well get there dont worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancing_in_the_rain54/pseuds/dancing_in_the_rain54
Summary: Touya Todoroki lives a rather dull life, making hats at his families hat shop after his mother's death. Wizard Hawk's castle causes fear in the town of Yuuei, so when Touya, after having the Wizard of the Waste cast a spell on him, ends up on Hawk's Moving Castle's doorsteps, you can imagine his nervousness.///Just a Howl's Moving Castle Au. You can still read it, even if you haven't read the book or seen the movie :))
Relationships: Dabi/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Touya
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	1. in Which Touya Talks to Hats

CHAPTER ONE: IN WHICH TOUYA TALKS TO HATS

IN THE LAND of Ingary, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of a family. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst if you try to seek out fortune. 

Touya Todoroki was the eldest of four children. His parents were well to do and kept a ladies' hat shop in the prosperous town of Yuuei. True, his father died when Touya was two years old, and his mother, Rei, remarried to a cruel man, Enji, a fire Wizard also known as Endeavor. His mother gave birth to three other children. Natsuo, now the second oldest, Fuyami, the middle child, and Shouto, the youngest. This ought to have made Touya upset, but he grew to love his siblings. Enji, however, seemed to only favor his youngest son, hating Touya the most. 

He and his siblings were all sent to Yuuei’s finest school, only because of their mother. If it was up to Enji, only Shouto would have been sent, Touya was sure. Touya, though appreciative of his mother’s kindness, never enjoyed school all that much. Fuyumi and Shouto, however, were the more studious pair. Natsuo seemed to share a similar view to his older brother. The three oldest siblings, however, seemed to soon realize how little of a chance they had of an interesting future. It was disappointing to Touya, but he was happy enough, looking after his siblings, and grooming Shouto to seek his fortune when the time came. Since Enji was always handling magic seekers, and his mother was handling the Hat Shop, Touya was left to take care of the younger three, as he was a few years older. Although it was tiring and he longed for something more, he would gladly take care of his younger siblings if it met to keep them away from Enji. There was a great deal of arguing between Fuyumi and Natsuo. Natsuo was by no means resigned to being the one who, next to Touya, was bound to be the least successful. 

“It’s not fair!” Natsuo would shout. “Why should Shouto have the best of it just because he was born the youngest? I shall strike gold, so there!” 

To which Fuyumi always retorted that Shouto also had to deal with the pressure of their father. Then Touya would drag them apart to mend their clothes. He was very deft with his needle. As time went on, he made clothes for his siblings too. There was the once deep rose dress he made for Fuyumi, one that complimented the red streaks in his hair, the May Day before this story really starts, which their mother said it looked like it came from the most expensive dress shop in Yuuei. Enji seemed to note this with mild interest.

About this time everyone began talking of the Warlock of the Waste again. It was said the Wizard had threatened the life of the King’s daughter and that the King had commanded his personal magician, Toshinori, the All Mightiest, to go into the waste and deal with the Wizard. It seemed that All Might had not only failed to deal with the Warlock; he had gotten himself killed by her, only leaving a young apprentice, Deku, to deal with him. Deku soon disappeared after that.

So when, a few months after that, a tall black castle suddenly appeared on the hills above Yuuei, blowing clouds of black smoke from its four tall, thin turrets, everybody was fairly sure that the Warlock had moved out of the Waste again and was about to terrorize the country the way he used to fifty years ago. People got very scared indeed. Nobody went out alone, particularly at night. What made it all the scarier that the castle did not stay in the same place. Sometimes it was a tall black smudge on the moors to the northwest, sometimes it reared above rocks to the east, and sometimes it came right downhill to sit in the heather only just beyond the last farm to the north. You could see it actually moving sometimes, with smoke pouring out from the turrets in dirty gray gusts. For a while everyone was certain that the castle would come right down into the valley before long, and the Mayor talked of sending to the King for help.

But the castle stayed roving about the hulls, and it was learned that it did not belong to the Warlock of the Waste but to Wizard Hawks. Wizard Hawks was bad enough. Though he did not seem to want to leave the hills, he was known to amuse himself by collecting young girls and sucking the souls from them. Or some people said he ate their hearts. He was an utterly cold-blooded and heartless wizard and no young girl was safe from him if he caught her on her own. Fuyumi, although Touya would never allow any tragedies, was warned never to go out alone, along with all the other girls in Yuuei, which was a great annoyance to her. They all wondered what use Wizard Hawks found for all the souls he collected.

The had other things on their minds before long, however, for Mrs. Todoroki died suddenly just as Touya was old enough to leave school for good. It then appeared that Mrs. Todoroki had been altogether too proud of her children. The school fees they had been paying had left their family with quite heavy debts. When the funeral was over, Enji sat down in the parlor in the house next door to the shop and explained the situation with a stern expression.

“You’ll all have to leave that school,” he said. “I’ve done the numbers, and it's not useful to have you all here. I’ve settled down a few deals for apprenticeships somewhere for all of you. Natsuo-” He turned to his oldest blood son.

Natsuo’s eyes held a sad gleam, where anger would usually be. He tended to be more aggressively hating their father. “I’ve arranged for you to be an apprentice to Taishiro, the pastry cook in Market Square. He’s agreed to squeeze you in as a favor, so don’t cause any unnecessary trouble for him,” He scowls, though his eyes seem to soften uncharacteristically.

Natsuo laughed in a way that showed he was not at all pleased. “Well, isn’t it lucky that I like cooking?” Natsuo, did in fact, hate cooking.

Enji clenched his jaw, but turned to his daughter, “Fuyumi.”

Fuyumi looked up, glowing in a certain beauty which even sorrow and black clothes could not hide. Her eyes lit up, not used to being noticed by their father, though she knew it was only out of necessity. “I’ve arranged for you to be able to finish school, but at the girl’s academy in the next town over.” Fuyumi looked surprised. She assumed her father would have her stuck at the shop or somewhere else. It was rather kind of him, once again, a very out of character move. She nodded, lowering her head in thanks. 

“Shouto-” He turned to his favorite son. “Do you remember me introducing you to my old classmate, Aizawa?”

Heterochromatic eyes stirred with a storm and sadness looked at their father. Shouto nods, “The one who sleeps a lot. Isn’t he a wizard?”

Enji nods, “You’ll apprentice there. He’s a very talented wizard, and he’ll teach you all he knows.”

Shouto’s blank expression didn’t show much, but Touya could tell a pass of resentment came over his eyes. He said nothing. 

Touya, listening, felt that Enji had worked things out rather well, surprisingly. Natsuo, though he’d be miserable, would end up meeting some nice apprentice and live happily, as he was the second oldest and probably wouldn’t amount to much. Fuyumi, as the second youngest, was left to finish school, which was strangely kind of the old Wizard. She would be able to finish school and get a job somewhere in the palace, possibly at the library or another. Shouto, to his displeasure, would be taught more magic. This one did not surprise Touya, although he had assumed Shouto would stay here and learn from Endeavor. Although he would miss his brother, Touya was glad Shouto would be away from their father. He knew little about their ‘training sessions,” only that Shouto only came back with burns and bruises, along with a cool temperature. 

As for Touya, he had no doubt what was coming. It did not surprise him when his step-father turned to him, not even trying to bother with paying him much attention. “You’ll run the Hat Shop, as you’re the eldest. You already know the trade, so I won’t bother trying to teach something I know nothing about.”

Touya couldn’t say he was particularly excited with running the hat shop, but it could have been worse, he supposes. Enji could have thrown him to the streets, and it wouldn’t have really surprised Touya. 

The next day Touya helped Shouto pack his clothes in a box, and the morning after that they all saw him off on the carrier’s cart, sporting a black expression, but tears had already been shed around his siblings the night before. Once the carrier’s cart was out of sight, Natsuo crammed his possessions into a pillow case and paid the neighbor’s bootboy to wheel it in a wheelbarrow to Taishiro’s in Market Square. Natsuo walked behind the wheelbarrow looking much more cheerful than Touya expected. The next day, Fuyumi left with a tearful goodbye from the train station, their mother’s old suitcase stuffed with the dresses Touya had made for her. 

The boot boy brought back a scribbled note from Natsuo, saying that Taishiro’s wasn’t that bad and that he had met a nice, excitable girl that made it a little more bearable. Touya would have to remember to tease him about it later. A week later, a note came from Shouto, done in his perfect cursive script, saying that Aizawa was a wonderful teacher, though a bit strict at times. He had met a few people, a blonde haired boy who seemed to have an anger issue, a red haired boy who seemed to be the only one able to calm the blonde, a girl who could make things float, and many more. It seemed much more entertaining than sitting in a hat shop all day, Touya thought bitterly. Fuyumi also wrote in the same week, saying she had met quite a few wonderful friends, and was learning loads more here than she did at Yuuei. That was all Touya heard of his siblings for quite a while, because he started running the shop the day Fuyumi left.

Touya, of course, knew the hat trade quite well already. Since he was a child, he had run in and out of the big workshed across the yard where hats were damped and molded on blocks, and flowers and fruits and other trimmings were made from wax and silk.

He knew the people who worked there. Most of them had been there when his mother was young. He knew Bessie, the only remaining shop assistant. He knew the customers who bought the hats and the man who drove the cart which fetched raw straw hats in from the country to be shaped on the blocks in the shed. He knew the other suppliers and how you made felt for winter hats. There was not really much that anybody could teach him, except perhaps the best way to get a customer to buy a hat.

In fact, Touya did not sell hats very much. He sat in a small alcove at the back of the shop, sewing roses to bonnets and veiling to velours, lining all of them with silk and arranging wax fruit and ribbons stylishly on the outsides. He was good at it. He quite liked doing it. But he felt isolated and a little dull. The workshop people were too old to be much fun. Bessie’s only talk anyway was about the farmer she was going to marry the week after May Day. Touya rather envied Enji, who could bustle off to bargain with the silk merchant whenever he wanted.

The most interesting thing was the talk from the customers. Nobody can buy a hat without gossiping. Touya sat in his alcove and stitched and heard that the Mayor never would eat green vegetables, and that Wizard Hawks’s castle had moved round to the cliffs again, really that man, whisper, whisper, whisper… The voices always dropped low when they talked of Wizard Hawks, but Touya gathered that he had caught a girl down the valley last month. “Bluebeard!” said the whispers, and then became voices again to say that Jane Farrier was a perfect disgrace the way she did her hair. That was one who would never attract even Wizard Hawks let alone a respectable man. Then there would be a fleeting, fearful whisper about the Warlock of the Waste. Touya began to feel that Wizard Hawks and the Warlock of the Waste should get together.

“They seem to be made for one another. Someone ought to arrange a match,” he remarked to the hat he was trimming at that moment.

Touya talked to hats more and more as weeks went by. There was no one else much to talk to. Bessie was busy serving and telling everyone her wedding plans. Touya got into the habit of putting each hat on its stand as he finished it, where it sat looking almost like a head without a body, and pausing while he told the hat what the body under it ought to be like. He flattered the hats a bit, because you should flatter customers,

“You have mysterious allure,” he told one that was all veiling with hidden twinkles. To a wide, creamy hat with roses under the brim he said, “You are going to have to marry money!” and to a caterpillar-green straw with a curly green feather he said, “You are young as a spring leaf.” He told pink bonnets they had dimpled charm and smart hats trimmed with velvet that they were witty. He told the mushroom-pleated bonnet, “You have a heart of gold and someone in a high position will see it and fall in love with you.” This was because he was sorry for that particular bonnet. It looked so fussy and plain.

Jane Farrier came into the shop the next day and bought it. Her hair did look a little strange, Touya thought, peeping out of his alcove, as if Jane had wound it round a row of pokers. It seemed a pity she had chosen that bonnet. But everyone seemed to be buying hats and bonnets around then.

There was so much custom as April drew on toward May Day that Touya had to put on a morbid grey suit and help in the shop too. But such was the demand that he was hard at trimming hats in between customers, and every evening he took them next door to the house, where he worked by lamplight far into the night in order to have hats to sell the next day. Caterpillar-green hats like the one the Mayor’s wife had were much called for, and so were pink bonnets, Then, the week before May Day, someone came in and asked for one with mushroom pleats like the one Jane Farrier had been wearing when she ran off with the Count of Catterack.

That night, as he sewed, Touya admitted to herself that his life was rather dull. Instead of talking to the hats, he tried each one on as he finished it and looked in the mirror. This was a mistake. The staid grey suit did not suit Touya, particularly when his eyes were red-rimmed with sewing, and, since his hair was a reddish straw color, neither did caterpillar green nor pink. The one with mushroom pleats simply made him look dreary. 

One day, Touya slammed his ribbon on the desk and groaned. “I’m talking to hats!” said Touya, laying his head into his arms. “I ought to burn this place to the ground.” He could have sworn blue flames flickered at his palms, but he reasoned he was just imagining things. But he wanted to do something—he was not sure what—that had a bit more interest to it than simply trimming hats. He thought he would find time the next day to go and talk to Natsuo.

But he did not go. Either he could not find the time, or he could not find the energy, or it seemed a great distance to Market Square, —anyway, every day it seemed more difficult to go and see his brother. It was very odd. Touya had always thought he was nearly as strong-minded as Natsuo. Now he was finding that there were some things he could only do when there were no excuses left. “This is absurd!” Touya said. “Market Square is only two streets away. If I run—” And he swore to herself he would go round to Taishiro’s when the hat shop was closed for May Day.

Meanwhile a new piece of gossip came into the shop. The King had quarreled with his own brother, Prince Justin, it was said, and the Prince had gone into exile. Nobody quite knew the reason for the quarrel, but the Prince had actually come through Market Chipping in disguise a couple of months back, and nobody had known. The Count of Catterack had been sent by the King to look for the Prince, when he happened to meet Jane Farrier instead. Touya listened and felt sad. Interesting things did seem to happen, but always to somebody else. Still, it would be nice to see Natsuo.

May Day came. Merrymaking filled the streets from dawn onward. Enji went out early, but Touya had a couple of hats to finish first. Touya sang as he worked. After all, Natsuo was working too. Taishiro’s was open till midnight on holidays. “I shall buy one of their cream cakes,” Touya decided, “I haven’t had one for ages.” He watched people crowding past the window in all kinds of bright clothes, people selling souvenirs, people walking on stilts, and felt really excited.

But when he at last put on a grey coat over his simple outfit, Touya did not feel excited. He felt overwhelmed. There were too many people rushing past, laughing and shouting, far too much noise and jostling. Touya felt as if the past months of sitting and sewing had turned him into an old man. He gathered his coat around him and crept along close to the houses, trying to avoid being trodden on by people’s best shoes or being jabbed by elbows in trailing silk sleeves. When there came a sudden volley of bangs from overhead somewhere, Touya thought he was going to faint. He looked up and saw Wizard Hawk’s castle right down on the hillside above the town, so near it seemed to be sitting on the chimneys. Blue flames were shooting out of all four of the castle’s turrets, bringing balls of blue fire with them that exploded high in the sky, quite horrendously. Wizard Hawks seemed to be offended by May Day. Or maybe he was trying to join in, in his own fashion. Touya was too terrified to care. He would have gone home, except that he was halfway to Taishiro’s by then. So he ran.

“What made me think I wanted life to be interesting?” he asked as he ran. “I’d be far too scared. It comes from being the eldest.”

When he reached Market Square, it was worse, if possible. Most of the inns were in the Square. Crowds of young men swaggered beerily to and fro, trailing cloaks and long sleeves and stamping buckled boots they would never have dreamed of wearing on a working day, calling loud remarks and accosting girls. The girls strolled in fine pairs, ready to be accosted. It was perfectly normal for May Day, but Touya was scared of that too. And when a young man in a fantastical blue-and-silver costume spotted Touya and decided to accost him as well, Touya shrank into a shop doorway and tried to hide.

The young man looked at him in surprise. “It’s all right, you little gray mouse,” he said, laughing rather pityingly. “I only want to buy you a drink. Don’t look so scared.”

The pitying look made Touya utterly ashamed. He was such a dashing specimen too, with a bony, sophisticated face—really quite old, well into his twenties—and elaborate blonde hair. His sleeves trailed longer than any in the Square, all scalloped edges and silver insets. “Oh, no thank you, if you please, sir,” Touya stammered. “I— I’m on my way to see my brother.”

“Then by all means do so,” laughed this advanced young man. “Who am I to keep a handsome young man from his brother? Would you like me to go with you, since you seem so scared?”

He meant it kindly, which made Touya more ashamed than ever. “No. No thank you, sir!” he gasped and fled away past him. He wore perfume too. The smell of hyacinths followed him as he ran. What a courtly person! Touya thought, as he pushed him way between the little tables outside Taishiro’s.

The tables were packed. Inside was packed and as noisy as the Square. Touya located Natsuo among the line of assistants at the counter because of the group of evident farmers’ daughters leaning their elbows on it to shout remarks to him. Natsuo, handsomer than ever and perhaps a little thinner, was putting cakes into bags as fast as he could go, giving each bag a deft little twist and looking back under his own elbow with a smile and an answer for each bag he twisted. There was a great deal of laughter. Touya had to fight his way through to the counter.

Natsuo saw him. He looked shaken for a moment. Then his eyes and his smile widened and he shouted, “Touya!”

“Can I talk to you?” Touya yelled. “Somewhere,” he shouted, a little helplessly, as a large, well-dressed elbow jostled him back from the counter.

“Just a moment!” Natsuo screamed back. He turned to the girl next to her and whispered. The girl nodded, grinned and came to take Natsuo’s place.

“You’ll have to have me instead,” she said to the crowd. “Who’s next?”

“But I want to talk to you, Natsuo!” one of the farmers’ daughters yelled.

“Talk to Carrie,” Natsuo said. “I want to talk to my brother.” Nobody really seemed to mind. They jostled Touya along to the end of the counter, where Natsuo held up a flap and beckoned, and told him not to keep him all day. When Touya had edged through the flap, Natsuo seized his wrist and dragged him into the back of the shop, to a room surrounded by rack upon wooden rack, each one filled with rows of cakes. Natsuo pulled forward two stools. “Sit down,” he said. He looked in the nearest rack, in an absentminded way, and handed Touya a cream cake out of it. “You may need this,” he said.

Touya sank onto the stool, breathing the rich smell of cake and feeling a little tearful. “Oh, Natsuo!” he said. “I am so glad to see you!”

“Yes, and I’m glad you’re sitting down,” said Natsuo. “You see, I’m not Natsuo, I’m Shouto.”


	2. In Which Touya is Compelled to Seek his Fortune

“What?” Touya stared at the boy on the stool opposite of her. He looked just like Natsuo. He was wearing Natsuo’s second-best best, the one Touya had made him for his birthday this past year. He had Natsuo’s white hair and grey eyes, like their mothers, along with his father’s stern chin.

“I’m Shouto,” said his brother. “Who did you catch eating Natsuo’s chocolate? I never told Natsuo that. Did you?”

“No,” said Touya, quite stunned. He could see it was Shouto now. There was Shouto’s posture, and the storm in his eyes that Natsuo could never match. “How? Why?”

“I’ve been dreading you coming to see me,” Shouto said, “because I’d knew I’d have to tell you. It's a relief now that I have. I’m sure you won’t tell anyone. Father would kill me if he found out.”

“Of course,” Touya said, still dazed, “But how?”

“Natsuo and I arranged it,” Martha said, “because Natsuo wanted to learn magic and I didn’t. I’ve learned enough to last a lifetime and wouldn’t use it anyways. Father would have lost his mind, if we would have told him.”

Touya could believe that. Their father was a cruel man, and there’s no telling what he would have done. 

“Eat your cake,” said Shouto. “It’s good, I’ve tried it myself. It only took me two weeks at Aizawa’s to find the spell we’re using. I got up at night and read his books secretly, but it proved to be difficult at times. Aizawa seemed to never sleep at night, only passing out at random times during the day. Then I asked if I could visit family and he said yes. He may be cold and strict at first, but he clearly cares for his students. I came back here with the spell and Natsuo went back to Aizawa’s pretending to be me. The difficult part was the first week, when I didn’t know all the things I was supposed to know. Lucky for me, I’m a rather quick learner. But I've discovered that people actually are quite pleasant. And Aizawa hasn’t kicked Natsuo out, so I suppose he managed too.”

Touya chomped at the chocolate cake. Chocolate had always been Shouto’s favorite. “What made Natsuo want to learn magic? He always seemed to hate it because it reminded him of Enji?”

Shouto nods solemnly, “He did. But something came over him. He just said he wanted to learn it. Something about our mother, but he never told me much about it. I think he just wanted to be successful.”

“Why did you want to do this? I mean, I get it, but I’m curious.” Touya said, tilting his head.

“I want to make a life for myself. One without our father. I want to go out and do normal teenager things. I wanted to make friends. Real ones, not fake ones like our father used to try to force on me. I wanted to do it for myself.”

Touya snorted, “You can’t do anything as yourself if you look like Natsuo.”

Shouto rolls his eyes, “You think I would choose to look like Natsuo for the rest of my life? No, this spell will fade, gradually. By the end of next year, I’ll look like myself again.”

Touya sighed, “I wish you would have told me.”

Shouto looked away from his brother, “I’m sorry. We should have, but we just didn’t know how. Fuyumi doesn’t know either, but I suppose I should tell her the next time she visits. Natsuo and I both felt absolutely awful about leaving you with our father. You deserve so much better, but we didn’t know what to do.”

Touya sighed, “Don’t blame yourself. Besides, I’m fine. He’s barely paid me any attention.”

Shouto shook his head, “You’re far too clever to be left in that shop.”

“I’m alright,” Touya instited. “Just a bit dull.”

“All right?” Shouto exclaimed in a very un-Shouto like way. “Yes, you prove you’re all right by not coming near here for months, and then turning up in a frightfully boring suit with a grey shawl, looking as if even I scare you!”

“I’m fine,” Touya inisited. “The shop’s been busy.”

“Touya,” Shouto sighed. “You could do so much more. That shop is making a mint these days, and all because of you! You made that green hat that makes the Mayor’s wife look like a stunning schoolgirl, didn’t you?”

“Caterpillar green. I trimmed it,” said Touya.  
“And the bonnet Jane Farrier was wearing when she met that nobleman,” Shouto swept on. “You’re a genius with hats and clothes, and Father knows it! You sealed your fate when you made Fuyumi that outfit last May Day. Now you earn the money while he goes off gadding—”

But at that moment two empty cake racks were pulled away at the other end of the room, and an apprentice stuck his head through from the back somewhere. “Thought I heard your voice, Shouto,” he said, grinning in the most friendly and flirtatious way. “Would you like to go take a break?” His head, green and curly. Touya thought he looked like a nice lad. He longed to ask if he was the one Shouto really liked, but he did not get a chance. Shouto sprang up in a hurry, still talking.

“I’m afraid I have to get back to work! I’ll have to get someone to carry these through to the shop,” he said. “Help me with the end of this one.” He dragged out the nearest rack and Touya helped him hump it past the door into the roaring, busy shop. “You’ve got to do something, Touya.” Shouto panted as they went. “Natsuo kept saying he was worried about your self-respect if we left. He was right to be worried.”

In the ship Mr. Taishiro seized the rack from them in both massive arms, yelling instructions, and a line of people rushed past them to fetch more. Touya telled goodbye and slipped away in the bustle. It did not seem right to take up more of Shouto’s time. Besides, he wanted to be alone to think. He ran home. There were more fireworks now, going up from the field by the river where the Fair was, competing with the blue bangs from Hawk’s Castle. Touya felt less like a human than ever. 

“Maybe I am being exploited,” he told a hat she was trimming with red silk and a bunch of wax cherries, “but someone has to do this or there will be no hats at all to sell.” He finished that hat and started on a stark black-and-white one, very modish, and a quite new thought came to him. “Does it matter if there are no hats to sell?” he asked it. He looked round the assembled hats, on stands or waiting in a heap to be trimmed. “What good are you all?” he asked them. “You certainly aren’t doing me a scrap of good.” His jaw clenched, and once again, he could have sworn he saw a flick of blue flames.

And he was within an ace of leaving the house and setting out to seek his fortune, until he remembered he was the eldest and there was no point. He took up the hat again, sighing.

He was still discontented, alone in the shop next morning, when a very plain young woman customer stormed in, whirling a pleated mushroom bonnet by its ribbons. “Look at this!” the young lady shrieked. “You told me this was the same as the bonnet Jane Farrier was wearing when she met the Count. And you lied. Nothing has happened to me at all!”

“I’m not surprised,” Touya said, before he had caught up with himself. “If you’re fool enough to wear that bonnet with a face like that, you wouldn’t have the wit to spot the King himself if he came begging—if he hadn’t turned to stone first just at the sight of you.”

The customer glared. Then she threw the bonnet at Touya and stormed out of the shop. Touya carefully crammed the bonnet into the wastebasket, panting rather, The rule was: Lose your temper, lose a customer. He had just proven that rule. It troubled him to realize how very enjoyable it had been.

Touya had no time to recover. There was the sound of wheels and horse hoofs and a carriage darkened the window. The shop bell clanged and the grandest customer he had ever seen sailed in, with a dark black suit, sleeves trailing onto the floor. Touya’s eyes went wide at the man’s hat, a deep purple top hat, covered with purple feathers and black jewels, along with a severed hand. Touya’s eyes widened. The man’s face was pale, lips scarred beyond fixable. Touya’s eyes took in the young man who followed the man in, a slightly formless-faced person who was well dressed and pale. Touya was puzzled.

“Mister Todoroki?” The man asked in a deep, scratchy commanding voice.

“Yes,” Touya said.

“I hear you sell the most heavenly hats,” said the man. “Show me.”

Touya did not trust himself to answer in his present mood. He went and got out the men’s hats. None of them were in this man’s class, but he could feel the man’s eyes following her and that made him uncomfortable. The sooner the man discovered the hats were wrong for her, the sooner the odd pair would go. 

The man rejected the hats, one after another. “You’re wasting my time, Mister Todoroki.”

“Only because you came in and asked for hats,” Touya said. “This is only a small shop in a small town, Sir. Why did you-” Behind the man, the servant gasped and seemed to be trying to worn Touya.”-bother coming in?” Touya finished, wondering what was going on.

“I always bother when someone tries to set themselves up against the Warlock of the waste,” said the man. “I’ve heard of you, Mister Todoroki, and I don’t care for your competition or your attitude. I came to put a stop to you. There.” He spread his hand in a flinging motion toward Touya’s face.

“You mean you're the Warlock of the waste?” Touya quavered. His voice seemed to have gone strange with fear and astonishment.

“I am.” said the man. “And let that teach you to meddle with things that belong to me.”

“I don’t think I did. There must be some mistake,” Touya croaked. The servant was staring at her in utter horror, though he could not see why.  
“No mistake, Mister Todoroki,” said the Warlock. “Come, Nomu.” He turned and swept to the shop door. While the man was humbly opening it for him, he turned back to Touya. “By the way, you won’t be able to tell anyone you’re under a spell,” he said. The shop door rang like a funeral bell as he left/

Touya put his hands to his face, wondering what the man had stared at. He felt soft, leathery skin. He looked at his hands. They had dark purple wrinkled skin coming to his wrists. He pulled his pant leg and noticed the same thing to his ankles. 

Touya got himself to the mirror. The face in the mirror was quite calm. He had the same dark purple, leather like skin under his eyes, and on his jaw. Silver staples glinted in the light, holding the skin of his face. He looked like he had been burnt to a crisp, then stapled back together. His hair was dark black, unlike his normal white hair. His eyes were now a turquoise blue, rather than grey. He glared at the reflection. They looked like Enji’s. 

He thought more about the situation, quite calmly. Everything seemed to have gone calm and remote. He was not even particularly angry at the Warlock of the Waste.

“Well, of course I shall have to do for him when I get the chance,” he told himself, “but meanwhile, if Natsuo and Shouto can stand being one another, I can stand to look like a monster. But I can’t stay here. Enji would kill me, simply for looking like this. Let’s see. This suit is fine, but I’ll grab my coat and some food.”

He walked over to the shop door and put up the CLOSED notice. His body seemed to not like the scars, as the staples pulled every time he moved. He didn’t feel weak or ill, so he supposed the Warlock hadn’t poisoned him. He shuffled into the house, jaw clenched at the pinch of the staples, and grabbed a sack. He filled it with a few coins and a parcel of bread and cheese. He left the house, hiding the key back under the flower outside. He took the back alleys around the town, not wanting to be spotted, still surprised how calm he still felt.

He wondered if he should say goodbye to Shouto. But he did not like the idea of Shouto not knowing him. It was best to just go. Touya decided he would write all of his siblings whenever he got wherever he was going. He walked on, through the silent night.

Touya walked on for a few miles, but he had to take breaks, as his scars kept pulling like it was trying to tear itself off of him. He found an old stick a little later when he sat down on a bank to rest and eat his bread and cheese. There were noises in the hedge behind him; little strangled squeakings, followed by heavings that shook may petals off the hedge. Touya crawled on his scarred knees to peer past leaves and flowers and thorns into the inside of the hedge, and discovered a thin gray dog in there. It was hopelessly trapped by a stout stick which had somehow got twisted into a rope that was tied round its neck. The stick had wedged itself between two branches of the hedge so that the dog could barely move. It rolled its eyes wildly at Touya’s peering face.

As a boy, Touya was scared of all dogs. Even as a monster, he was quite alarmed by the two rows of white fangs in the creature’s open jaws. But he said to herself, “The way I am now, it’s scarcely worth worrying about,” and felt in his sewing pocket for his scissors. He reached into the hedge with the scissors and sawed away at the rope round the dog’s neck.

The dog was very wild. It flinched away from him and growled. But Touya sawed bravely on. “You’ll starve or throttle to death, my friend,” he told the dog “unless you let me cut you loose. In fact, I think someone has tried to throttle you already. Maybe that accounts for your wildness.” The rope had been tied quite tightly round the dog’s neck and the stick had been twisted viciously into it. It took a lot of sawing before the rope parted and the dog was able to drag itself out from under the stick.

“Would you like some bread and cheese?” Touya asked it then. But the dog just growled at him, forced its way out through the opposite side of the hedge, and slunk away. “There’s gratitude for you!” Touya said, rubbing his prickled arms. The burnt skin looked even more gruesome with the blood that trickled, “But you left me a gift in spite of yourself.” Je pulled the stick that had trapped the dog out of the hedge and found it was a proper walking stick, well trimmed and tipped with iron. Touya finished his bread and cheese and set off walking again. The lane became steeper and steeper and she found the stick a great help. It was also something to talk to. Touya thumped along with a will, chatting to his stick.

“There’s two encounters,” he said, “and not a scrap of magical gratitude from either. Still, you’re a good stick. I’m not grumbling. But I’m surely due to have a third encounter, magical or not. In fact, I insist on one. I wonder what it will be.”

The third encounter proved to be rather entertaining. Touya had worked his way into the hills. A countryman came whistling down the lane toward him. A shepherd, Touya thought, going home after seeing his sheep. 

When the shepherd saw him, he had eyes as big as saucers. He edged himself along the opposite hedge, remaining as silent as possible. Touya didn’t mind. His ears also ached from the scarred skin. Once the man paced him, Touya heard him take off into a sprint. That brought a crooked smile to his face. He supposed it made sense. If he would have seen a burnt man while he was by himself, miles away from the nearest town, he’d be frightened too.

Later on he collapsed onto a stone by the wayside, wondering what he would do now. “The only fortune I can think of is a comfortable chair and some lotion!” he gasped.

The stone proved to be on a sort of headland, which gave Touya a magnificent view of the way he had come. There was most of the valley spread out beneath him in the setting sun, all fields and walls and hedges, the windings of the river, and the fine mansions of rich people glowing out from clumps of trees, right down to blue mountains in the far distance. Just below him was Market Chipping. He could look down into its well-known streets. There was Market Square and Taishiro’s He could have tossed a stone down the chimney pots of the house next to the hat shop.

“How near it still is!” Touya told his stick in dismay. “All that walking just to get above my own rooftop!”

It got cold on the stone as the sun went down. An unpleasant wind blew whichever way Touya turned to avoid it. Now it no longer seemed so unimportant that he would be out on the hills during the night. He found himself thinking more and more of a comfortable chair and a fireside, and also of darkness and wild animals. But if he went back to Market Chipping, it would be the middle of the night before he got there. He might just as well go on. He sighed and stood up, creaking. It was awful. He ached all over.

“I don’t think wolves will eat me. I must be far too dry and tough. That’s one comfort.” Touya panted on top of a hill.

Night was coming down fast now and the heathery uplands were blue-gray. The wind was sharper. Touya’s panting and the stretch of burnt skin were so loud in his ears that it took him a while to notice that some of the grinding and puffing was not coming from himself at all. He looked up blurrily.

Wizard Hawks’s castle was rumbling and bumping toward him across the moorland. Black smoke was blowing up in clouds from behind its black battlements. It looked tall and thin and heavy and ugly and very sinister indeed. Touya leaned on his stick and watched it. He was not particularly frightened. He wondered how it moved. But the main thing in his mind was that all that smoke must mean a large fireside somewhere inside those tall black walls.

“Well, why not?” he said to his stick. “Wizard Hawks is not likely to want my soul for his collection. He only takes young girls.”

He raised his stick and waved it imperiously at the castle.

“Stop!” he shouted.

The castle obediently came to a rumbling, grinding halt about fifty feet uphill from him. Touya felt rather gratified as he hobbled toward it.


End file.
